Neal looked around at the circle of still-waiting-to-be-wrapped presents surrounding him and Emma, a feeling of doom sinking into his stomach. Emma was hard at work, snatching sheets of her overly-festive wrapping paper, slapping on bows and labels, scribbling, Merry Christmas from Neal and Emma! with Sharpie before tossing the present over her shoulder and into the pile. She seemed to have an efficient system, a one-man assembly line, that he was rather reluctant to disturb.

"Come on, Neal," she said around the candy cane in her mouth. "Help me."

"You sure? You look like you've got a thing going here…"

"No, no, no, no, come on," she urged.

"But you're going to get mad at me for…I don't know, putting the bow on the wrong corner or something."

Emma exhaled, closing her eyes. "I promise I won't get mad at you," she said. "I just want to get this done, okay?"

Neal raised a skeptical eyebrow. "For reals?"

"For reals."

"Okay," he shrugged, and reached for a box, twirling it through his fingers. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure, I'm sure," she said, the candy cane rattling against her teeth. "Just get some paper and wrap it."

Neal stretched across to pick up the first reachable spool of wrapping paper: silvery snowmen with little red scarves. "All righty," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's do this."

Emma looked over and wrinkled her nose. "Oh, don't use that wrapping paper. Not for my mom."

Neal frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Don't use that wrapping paper for my mom," she repeated, reaching over and taking it away. "Here, use the holly berries—it's much classier."

He looked at the roll of paper she held out to him, feeling his shoulders tense. And here we go. "Didn't realize we had to customize it to fit everyone's personalities," he said, taking it from her hand. "I mean, it's not like they're just going to rip it up anyway…Oh, wait a minute…"

Emma looked up, baring her teeth in a tight smile. "Neal…sweetie…"

Neal cringed. Sweetie. That was never a good sign.

"I really, really, really need to get this done. So could you just—?" Emma waved her hand, shrugging. "I don't know, leave the sarcasm at home and wrap the goddamn present?"

"Wow. That got ugly fast."

"Yeah, so did your mom."

"Okay, stop—" Neal reached over and tugged the candy cane out of her mouth, ignoring her protests—"eating these, Em. The sugar does something to your brain, you get way too intense about stuff."

"It's festive. I must have it."

"Have a piece of fruit."

"What the hell kind of childhood did you have, if you think fruit is festive?"

Neal held it out of her reach as she lunged for it. "It's for your own good," he soothed over her frustrated muttering. "And while you're at it, I think you should cut back on the Christmas cookies, too."

"But people keep sending them!" she argued. "And it's the only time of year you can eat Christmas cookies! Eating them in January is just wrong."

"You don't have to eat every cookie they send you," Neal said, shaking his head. "It's too much sugar."

"It's not sugar, it's Christmas spirit!"

"Fine, whatever. Stop eating so much Christmas spirit."

Emma glowered at him, but went back to present-wrapping without another word. Neal eyed her suspiciously as he tossed the candy cane in the garbage bag.

"You don't have another one in your pocket, do you?"

"No."

"No hiding places? No secret drawers?"

"No, and no."

"Okay." Neal lifted his chin, considering her. "Okay, I believe you."

"Well, that just thrills me."

"What I don't believe is this." Neal frowned down at a box by his knee; he picked it up, twirling it around to show Emma. "What the hell is this thing?"

Emma glanced up from her label. "Oh, that?" she said, capping her Sharpie. "It's a pasta maker. I got it for your dad."

"Pasta maker?" he repeated dubiously. "But—he doesn't even eat pasta."

"He doesn't eat it now," she said reasonably. "Probably because he doesn't have a decent pasta maker."

"And what about this?" Neal picked up another box, shaking his head bewilderedly. "What is this?"

"Panini maker," she shrugged.

"What?"

"A panini maker," she enunciated. "I got it for my dad."

Neal stared at her. "I didn't know he had a passion for making panini's."

"He doesn't, but he will," Emma assured him. "It's impossible not to fall in love with that panini maker. I mean, just look at all the buttons it comes with. It has to be good."

"What, did you get everyone kitchen appliances? Whatever happened to pretentious sweaters and ties they're never going to wear?"

"Okay, sweetie, you know what?" Emma reached over, stretching a piece of tape over his mouth and patting it a few times to make it stick. "You talk too much. You're making Christmas exhausting."

Neal raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes in disbelief, pointing to himself.

"Yes, you," Emma nodded, then let out a weary sigh. "In fact, I'm so exhausted, I think I'm going to need another sugar high to wake me up. Where did I put the rest of those candy canes…?"